It was a slight noise, but it was enough to wake Cam from her inadvertent sleep at her desk in her office. Outside her office, from the platform or thereabouts, metal instruments clicked and chimed as they were laid down again on their tray, signaling their intermittent replacement and use as whomever was working on the platform made their inspection of whatever it was they were working on.

It had to be Dr. Brennan, Cam thought, as she struggled awake. Looking at the time on her computer, she saw that it was nearly eleven o'clock on a Friday night. Bad enough that Dr. Brennan was here, but that Cam had been working hard enough to pass out at her desk on a Friday night, too? The anthropologist was a bad influence; Cam always felt like a slacker leaving before the anthropologist did, which was, of course, why she'd been working so late at her desk when she could have been home in front of the classic movie channel with a pint of ice cream instead. She pushed back slowly from her desk, still groggy with sleep, and turned to look over her shoulder. It was Dr. Brennan-- hair up in a bun, lab coat buttoned, looking as composed at eleven o'clock at night as she did at seven thirty this morning, when she'd already been on the platform as Cam arrived. She was examining some Limbo remains, older ones she used to teach something to one of her graduate students earlier on in the day.

It wasn't often Cam got to see Dr. Brennan in full professorial mode. She had to admit, she'd been impressed at the way she'd explained all the principles at issue-- clear enough to Cam, since she had enough of the scientific background. The graduate student had the doctor's undivided attention, disconcerting to anyone, much less someone who was dependent for a good grade on not quailing under that blue-eyed stare of hers, but she seemed to have done well. Cam was just glad that stare was rarely leveled at her any more. When she'd first started here, she was completely thrown off by Dr. Brennan's cool appraisal, but the woman seemed to have accepted Cam's presence, even as she continued her work with only a token nod to Cam's authority. Cam could hardly complain. The Board would kill her if Dr. Brennan ever quit.

The anthropologist, meanwhile, seemed to think she was alone, and no surprise. Cam usually left by nine at the latest, and earlier still on a Friday night. At some point before Cam had awoken, the lights in Cam's office had been turned off, and her view of Dr. Brennan was unobstructed, as well as unlit-- she could watch the anthropologist without fear of detection. Though she felt somewhat strange, Cam sat still in her chair, observing the woman she still had little insight to, almost two years since she'd taken the position.

Brennan moved quietly around the exam table, stooping to look at the bones laid out before her, a look of quiet contemplation on her face. It was if she was unaware of time when she worked, Cam thought to herself-- the woman truly became absorbed in what was before her. Cam envied and pitied her all at once. Of course, it was why she was so successful, but at the same time, Cam couldn't think that working all the time, as Dr. Brennan did, was any way to be happy. Practically the only time the doctor left at a decent hour was when Seeley came to drag her out to the diner.

Seeley. She didn't understand why he was so patient with the doctor, what it was exactly about her that had such a hold over him. Yes, she worked as hard as he did, probably harder, to close their cases. Yes, she was ferociously dedicated to their victims, as he was. But she was so awkward, and reserved, so different from him-- Cam didn't understand it. But some kind of hold over Seeley she had-- after a while, it became clear to Cam that whatever it was between the two of them, and it sure wasn't sex, Seeley took very personally any threat to Dr. Brennan, physical or otherwise. He'd sure as hell put Cam in her place the time or two Cam had intimated that she had any professional ill intentions toward Brennan. But it was just as well-- Seeley was his own man, in the end, and always came and went as he chose. It sometimes seemed to her like Dr. Brennan and his son were the only constants.

Her attention was drawn back to the doctor by a movement on the platform. The forensic anthropologist straightened, her hands placed on the small of her back. She arched backwards, stretching, her eyes closed. A small sigh escaped her, a rare moment of tiredness Cam was sure she would never have shown had she known she was being observed. Brennan's slender frame and nonetheless generous curves were highlighted by the movement, the backward arch of her body causing the fabric of her plain blue lab coat to draw tight over her breasts, dipping again against the flat plane of her stomach. Her hands as she leaned back and stretched were resting at the flare of her waist, just above her shapely bottom, only hinted at under the loose fabric of the lab coat. Cam admitted that Brennan's figure was stunning, though she didn't know when the doctor found the time to work out-- it seemed like she was always here. Of course, the woman didn't eat, either, unless Seeley made her.

As if her thoughts summoned him, the sliding glass doors to the lab whisked open, and Seeley strode in, still in his suit from the day. It had been as late a night for him as Dr. Brennan, though Cam didn't know why, since they didn't have an active case with the handsome FBI agent. He looked tired, and rumpled, but nonetheless resolute with some serious purpose-- as Cam supposed he would have to be, if he was going to pry Dr. Brennan out of the lab at this hour. She clearly had something she deemed pressing, to require her to stay so late.

Cam watched, still unnoticed, as Seeley paced quietly to the platform, and swiped his card in the reader at the base. Only that noise alerted Dr. Brennan to his presence, and her eyes opened even as she continued to stretch. She watched him as he walked slowly toward her, his jacket unbuttoned, his tie slightly loose at the neck.

"You're avoiding me," he said, his handsome features etched with concern and something else Cam couldn't place. "You haven't picked up your phone all day."

Brennan relaxed from her stretch, and returned Seeley's gaze levelly as he advanced on her. "I'm not avoiding you. There's nothing to discuss, Booth." Her melodious alto was slightly husky as she addressed him.

Cam's breath hitched in surprise as Seeley stepped directly into the anthropologist's space, his face mere inches from hers. "Don't give me that, Temperance," he said, his voice low, his eyes frankly appraising her form even as she stood unwavering while he drew close to her. Cam's breath hitched again. She'd never heard Seeley address Dr. Brennan by anything other than his nickname of "Bones" or as "Dr. Brennan" when they were in professional contexts. Something serious must have happened between them, for him to be using her given name. She was shocked, too, by how blatantly sexual his invasion of her space was, and by how the doctor seemed to expect it, even as she began to look upset by it. When was the last time Cam had seen them together? Regardless of her pertubation, however, the anthropologist returned the agent's heated gaze, not moving from the place where she stood, though Seeley invaded her space as if he could claim her by doing so. There had always been more to the two than she could see on the surface, and Cam was too intrigued and also afraid of discovery to give any hint of her presence. She had to see what happened next.

Seeley continued. "I've left you alone for two days now. To think, you said. You owe me an answer." His posture was firm, his stance balanced-- almost as if he were a predator, waiting to spring.

Cam watched in amazement as Brennan's voice softened, the sculpted alabaster planes of her face softening as well. Her blue eyes were almost azure with lambent emotion. "Booth," she said huskily. "It just... it can't be. You know that. We ... can't. Not if we're to be able to do the things we need to. Discussing it further will only make it harder both of us." As she spoke, she stood her ground, neither retreating nor advancing as Booth loomed over her, his imposing, muscular form dominating the space around both of them. Any other woman might have retreated from Booth, even Cam, in the face of such an aggressive advance, but the anthropologist stayed still-- she trusted him, whatever was happening between the two of them. She paused for a moment, swallowing slightly, her bosom heaving lightly under a sigh before she continued regretfully. "Our work is just too important."

His eyes darkened, and the air around him began to crackle and shimmer with heat as he looked down from his height into her upturned face. "Work be damned, Temperance. You're more important-- we're more important. Don't tell me you don't feel it too. Even you can't deny what's between us." His voice was dusky, seductive, demanding.

Her face softened further, her voice thickened with longing as she responded. "I don't deny it. How can I? You've made it impossible. I'd damn you for making me feel again if I didn't love you so much. But... Booth... it can't be." The depth of the sensations troubling her were apparent in her every expression.

His resolute demeanor hardened, his spine straightening further. His voice was almost harsh, even as it deepened and became more seductive. "If you love me, as you say that you do, then how can you live with that decision? This isn't partnership, Temperance. It's a sham, a lie, a pretense. Tell me, look me in the eye when you say it-- tell me that you're willing to go through each day pretending there's nothing more between us than friendship."

Her exhalation was ragged, her already fair skin paling as he confronted her. An aura of ineffable sadness surrounded her, and Cam felt her heart clench in sympathy. The anthropologist's next words were so passionate, so self-denying, that she finally knew what exactly it was Seeley saw in her. "It's not a question of willing, Booth. It's a question of must. Don't you see? If we give in to this, they'll force us apart, and then where will we be? I won't have you, I won't have our work either, and our victims will have no one to fight for them. They'll assign you some other partner, someone who can't back you up like I do. What if you're hurt, or killed again, this time for real? Then all that we have, at least now, will have been wasted. I'd rather have only part of you than lose all of you again, Booth. It nearly killed me to lose you the last time. I can't do it again. You can't ask that of me." Her expression was full of past grief remembered. Cam remembered, all over again, how it seemed each day after Seeley's death as though the anthropologist was fading from view, right in front of them.

Seeley ignored her plea that he leave the subject to rest. "Don't you think it doesn't nearly kill me each time you're in danger? Don't you think it practically killed me the last time, knowing that I hadn't told you how I felt, that you might never know? And yet, we work through it, Temperance. We have. We can. We will. You're wrong. I won't let them separate us. They have too much to lose, more than we do." His words were rushed, forceful, rasping, a veritable torrent of persuasion. Cam was certain that Brennan would yield to the onrush of words, accede to his passionate importunations, but it had almost the opposite effect.

Her eyes widened, and she put a hand up to his chest to stop his further approach. "They have too much to lose? More than we do? Then that's more than everything, because that's what you are to me. I can't do it," she said then, her voice cracking as she spoke, her eyes flashing. "I can't. You can't ask it of me." Tears were flowing freely down her alabaster cheeks, now, her stricken expression only highlighting her ethereal beauty. Cam had no doubt she spoke from the heart-- her voice was trembling with passion even as she tried to forswear him. Tears pricked Cam's eyes as she further recalled the woman's torment the last time. It would kill her if it happened again.

There was a long silence between them, the air between them fraught with anticipation, and tension, and need. His whole aspect bespoke fierce tenderness-- his determination to have her now rock-solid in the face of her trembling, passionate willingness to deny herself, if it would somehow keep him safe.

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you," he said, moving in on her despite her hand on his chest. He moved closer still, clasping her to him, one hand at the small of her back pulling her hips flush with his, the other splaying between her shoulderblades. Her hand on his chest failed utterly to stop him from folding her into his virile embrace.

His dark imprecations continued. "I'm telling you," he repeated, as she gazed at him, wide-eyed, chest heaving with defeated longing, "I won't let them separate us-- no one will, no one can. I'm telling you, Temperance-- anyone who tries won't live to regret it. But I can't keep going on this way-- every moment I can't touch you, be with you, tears my heart into pieces. Don't you see? I'd rather have only one night with you fully, finally mine, as we're meant to be, and die the next day, than live the lie of pretending that all you are is my partner. You are my soulmate. I want the whole world to know. So tell me, Temperance, that you don't feel the same, and I'll leave you alone."

The sheer forceful need in his voice was enough to make Cam almost swoon, and his verbal assault had its intended result, as Brennan responded.

"I can't!" she cried, her face a welter of passionate need and self-denial, as she feebly tried to push him away, tried to avert her eyes from his intense, loving gaze. "You know I can't lie to you. Without you, there is nothing-- but I'm not strong enough, Booth. You're not just the other half of my heart-- you're the whole of it. When yours stops beating, mine does. When your lungs cease their breathing, mine lose all their air."

Cam forgot at times that the doctor was an accomplished authoress, but her fraught, poetic response to his demand was in keeping with that part Cam now realized most often remained hidden at the lab-- though there'd been flickering glimpses of some underlying, creative passion the time Seeley was taken and the anthropologist had driven them all to find him, then rushed off to rescue him. This was what Seeley must see in her all the time, away from prying, unkind, judging eyes. Cam regretted anew every thought she ever had that the woman was cold-- she had passion and more to meet Seeley's own.

He still held her clasped to him, his muscular arms encompassing her as his gaze scorched her, captured her eyes with his heat. Despite all his control in other areas, Cam could see he was quick approaching his limit with Brennan. "We are at an impasse, then, Temperance," he said, his voice lowering, almost a guttural growl. "I'll die if I can't have all of you, and you'll die if you can't have any of me, however little."

Her eyes fluttered shut as he spoke, her only answer a faint, whispered "yes," as her head sagged forward, coming to rest on his chest. Her response was so quiet that Cam saw its shape on her pale, trembling lips more than she heard it, and her heart broke for the two of them, especially Brennan. Seeley was a man of action, used to doing what he thought was needed to achieve his desired result. Her whole life, in contrast, had been built on the premise of doing without-- his forcing her to reject him might even break her. Seeley saw it, then, even as Cam thought it herself-- and took action, made it impossible for her to reject him.

Bending his head until his mouth was alongside her ear, his voice a velvet caress, he whispered "Temperance, tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop. I'll respect your request-- but you have to tell me." With those words of demand, his hand at her shoulders clasped her further to him, his face turning into her neck to trail kiss after kiss down to the collar of her coat. With the first press of his lips to her skin, she whimpered, her head falling to the side to allow him further access. His hand at her shoulders made its way to her nape, his long, masculine fingers weaving into her hair, pressing and pulling her head back so he could adorn the front of her throat with devoted, passionate kisses and nips of his mouth.

"Seeley," she moaned faintly, the hand at his chest now clasping his bicep, either to hold on for dear life, or to make another feeble attempt to push him away. Cam couldn't tell, and wasn't sure if the anthropologist could, either.

"Tell me you don't want this, Temperance," he demanded again, before pulling her head back so she had no choice but to stare his hammering need for her straight in the face. He was testing her sorely. She was close to the breaking point, and she trembled violently, her knees actually giving way in the face of his implacable desire. Fear warred with unbounded love in her eyes, even as her heart warred with her hard-earned experience that all things came to an end, the better things sooner than others.

As she sagged under the onslaught of his unflagging, relentless pursuit, his arms clasped her even more tightly, bearing her slight form easily, the weight of her meaningless to him in the strength of the moment. "Oh, Seeley, please," she cried, the sound of her heart breaking audible in every word.

He took pity on her then-- Cam could see him deciding-- and he acted for both of them. "Silence means assent, Temperance," he whispered, before claiming her mouth for the most passionate, most tender, most fierce, most all-consuming kiss Cam had ever seen in her life. The calm, strong Seeley she thought she knew was nothing, compared to this man. Never before, she realized now, had she seen him in a true, honest moment of passion, whose desire and intentions burned so strongly that it would be impossible to breathe around him.

His heat had the desired effect. Temperance melted under his mouth, her body molding under his hands as he pulled her yet closer while his mouth plundered hers. The hand not already clasping his muscular arm made its way to his jacket lapel, her fingers splaying and grasping at the fabric as Seeley's lips and tongue continued to claim her. He moved them away from the table where she'd been performing her work, until he'd backed her against an empty examination table. When she came into contact with the cold metal object, his hand at her back let her go, travelling up to grasp the side of her face as his hand at her nape still held her mouth to his.

Cam was gasping for air as she watched, trying to keep silent her shock and her own responsive desire as the need between the two of them resonated even with her. She had to keep quiet. She couldn't interrupt them. She had to let Seeley finish convincing Dr. Brennan, or it would be fatal to both of them-- she knew that now, understood it finally. The rest unfolded as if it were on film, or as if Cam were plunged into its midst, able to read the thoughts of each willing participant-- certainly their body language conveyed each thought and emotion, as each bared themselves completely to the other.

Their mouths finally parted, as he held her face in his hands, gazing down at her with limitless love and desire. He spoke no further words to her, then-- her silence was assent, and he moved now to claim her. Lifting her up at the waist until she was seated on the edge of the table, he pulled her in for another passionate kiss with one hand, even as the other quickly and surely unbuttoned the lab coat over her regular clothing. Even as their mouths melded, he slipped the sleeves of her coat from her arms, until the blue fabric puddled under her, a carpet upon which she sat in the midst of cold metal.

He continued in silence, removing her white silken blouse to reveal her paler, even more silken skin beneath. She was luminous, the purest aspect of womanhood set forth before him, each curve of breast and waist, each plane of toned muscle at arm and at stomach the epitome of all his desires. He unclasped her bra and cast it aside even as she pushed his suitjacket off of his shoulders. The decision taken from her, she was now as determined to take what she'd so long been denied for herself. Her nimble small fingers found and undid each button on his well-tailored dress shirt, tugged and slid off his tie even as he lifted her at the wait while he tugged her pants and shoes from her. He was laving her belly and chest with sucking kisses as she worked at his belt, and he paused long enough from his hand's exploration of her silken topography to remove his own pants, kicking free of all remaining fabric encumbrances keeping them from one another.

Where she was white, curved, luminous and almost ethereal, he was hard, bronzed and sculpted, and as solid as the earth beneath them. They were two different schools of aesthetics, each perfect in their own way, each admiring the other. Her dexterous slender fingers explored him as he pushed her back onto the table, then crawled up over her, tasting her with his mouth as he went, toe to head, acquainting himself with each inch of her body. She sighed and whimpered as his hot mouth and calloused strong hands roamed over her, and his skin shuddered under her touch as her nimble hands made acquaintance with his solid masculine perfection. Her warm satin mouth pressed against what parts of him she could reach, as she craned to maximize her body's contact with his.

He paused in his slow worship of her body to kiss her again, one arm slipping under her back to clasp their chests to one another. Though the scene should have been profane, or bizarre, the sight of the two making love on the otherwise clinical steel of the examination table had a sense of rightness about it-- as if she was letting him in past her last barrier. Her long white toned arms clasped him to her, one hand at his nape holding his mouth to her as the other hand traced the cut lines of his shoulders and back. Their bodies writhed against one another, seeking the other's heat, though for what seemed like hours from an outsider's perspective, all they did was kiss and allow their skin maximum contact, her foot drawing its way up the back of his perfectly muscled leg and sculpted buttocks, his hands roaming the curves of her breasts and her hips as each sighed and shuddered under the touch of the other.

Finally, he broke away from her mouth and resumed his worship of her. His mouth found its way to her full, milky breasts, sucking her in as if she were the world's greatest sustenance. She gasped, arcing into him, her eyes snapping open as his tongue on her sensistized flesh circled and sucked at her, sending urgent spikes of desire through her. He continued his passionate onslaught, his devoted attentions to her breasts equally divided, until she was arcing and crying his first name in increasingly desperate tones. Only then did he shift his attentions downward, though one hand remained at her breasts, caressing her lightly with fingertips brushes and light squeezes as his mouth trailed its way first to suck and swirl at her navel, then descend on her core.

Throughout, her hands splayed and plucked at him, stoking the fire already raging in him when he first claimed her mouth in his. Eash brush of her fingers was fuel to the fire, each sigh and whimper a new piece of tinder, a new blast of the bellows. Her call of his name was all he ever wanted to hear, the tone of need and love and desire in her voice what he had longed to hear. That she was finally his did not weaken him-- the knowledge of it, rather, made him stronger.

As he settled himself between her legs, his erect length stiffening further as her incredible scent enveloped him, his hands settled themselves on her, determined to hold her in place while he tasted her. He ached to give her so much pleasure that she lost speech, lost all sense of herself except for what he could give her. He set to work.

Her silken skin, already flushed the palest pink, bloomed to the most incredible rose as his tongue met her core. She cried out wordlessly as he gave her the most intimate of kisses, then cried again as he brought all his skill and love to bear in pleasuring her. All other women before her were meaningless, and under his hands and his mouth, all prior lovers crumbled to ash in her memory. They remade one another, as she moaned under the sucking, lapping, nipping, curling actions of his tongue and his lips, and she responded to him as if he was made to her. When she finally came, his hands pressed her down into the table as he continued to suck at her, preventing her from pulling away before he coaxed another climax from her.

She was astonished, stunned at her body's reaction to him, his mastery of her every sensation despite the fact that this was their first joining. She had never felt so cherished, and it stole her breath even as his tongue and hands on her forced shrieks and moans of ecstasy from her. She heard herself begging, finally, for him to join with her, her voice calling "I can't be without you any longer" in a tone of such desparate need that it seemed to come from someone other than her.

His mouth left her then as he resettled himself around and over her, one hand seizing her chin gently as he looked down at her. "You are everything," he whispered huskily, and panting, she agreed. "Everything, Seeley. Forever." They were the only words he needed. He shifted, one arm coming under her to clasp her against him as he braced himself on his knees, poising himself at her entrance. One last look in her eyes told him there would be no regrets, only promise, in the aftermath of their joining, and he surged into her with all the force of his need for her.

They both called the other's name out in shock at the end of his thrust, as he filled her completely, and she took him completely into her. It was if neither ever knew the meaning of home before now. Her arms were clasped tightly around him, her legs cradling him to her, and as he slowly withdrew and returned, she cried out, head back, at the sensation. Tears fell from her eyes even as they started streaming from his, a mix of joy and astonishment and longing now relieved overflowing from them as their bodies took over, joining them in a dance nearly as old as the stars winking in through the laboratory windows.

It was a dance like no one had ever seen before, one of such passionate completion and abandon that all joinings but theirs would forever pale in comparison-- though no one would ever know, because this was a sacred dance between two souls, meant only for the other. When they completed their steps, each cried out at the same time, ending as they began with a call of shocked amazement and wonder. They lay there long moments, eyes shuttered from the force of their loving, until they fell back to earth, and slowly returned to themselves. There were caressess, and endearments, and expressions of wonder, before they collected themselves and their belongings, and left together, the silence of the lab now like that of a cathedral after a worship service.

Cam sat back, stunned, barely able to breathe. She had just been witness to as close as she'd ever come to a religious experience. She'd never seen two people so in love-- in some ways hadn't even believed such a thing was possible, before now. She could never tell anyone, either. It would be an obscene violation of something so private, so tender, so all-encompassing to the two partners, that there was no way of expressing it. She laid her head back, resting against the chair's cushion, as she reflected. She would have the weekend to compose herself before she saw them again. She would do what she could to honor their love, however they chose to express it hereafter. What she had witnessed was too beautiful not to.


Cam woke with a jerk, and noted the time blinking on her computer. Almost two o'clock in the morning on Saturday. She groaned. She'd fallen asleep at her desk, and had the strangest, most unprofessional dream. She sat up slowly, groaning again as she looked into the trash and at the face-down paperback on her desk, the picture of a virile man ripping the bodice of a fainting woman on its cover. That was the last time she had chinese food and read a trashy romance novel in her office while she was trying to wait Dr. Brennan out on one of these Friday nights. Screw feeling like a slacker-- that last dream proved she had entirely too much time on her hands to read trashy novels, rather than doing what she ought to be doing, which was putting all those overblown smutty thoughts into action with someone of her own. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she recalled some of the more vivid details of her dream. Seeley she could see dreaming about-- after all, she'd slept with the man and he was an incredible lover. But for her to have such an explicit dream involving Dr. Brennan troubled her deeply. The two partners were consummate professionals, and Cam clearly needed a much better social life if her Friday nights were beginning to involve smutty dreams about her ex-boyfriend and her nominal employee. No woman could look that perfect under that lab coat, at least not the way Cam had dreamt her.

She shut down her computer and gathered her purse and her coat, passing by the platform in her travel to the door. She drew even with the exam table where, in her dream, Temperance and Seeley had at long last consummated their passion, and shook her head at her crazy imagination. The movement of it caused her to pause, though, and she looked, jaw dropping open. Pooled at the foot of the table, underneath and out of sight to anyone not standing at eye level like she was, lay a necktie and a demicup bra-- intertwined, completely entangled, wrapped up in each other.

Anyone remember the S2 episode where Cam admits that she doesn't read Brennan's books, because she prefers bodice rippers? This little smut one off was an outgrowth of that.